


Every Day I Mind the Gap Between You and Me

by HarpiaHarpyja



Series: How Soon Unaccountable [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Actual Force Nerd Kylo Ren, Actual Force Nerd Rey of Jakku, Canon Compliant, Dirty Ship Rat Rey of Jakku, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Kylo Ren: Reigning King of the Self-Cockblock, Mutual Pining, Post TLJ, Rey and Finn: Ship Maintenance Bros, Rey is Filthy (Literally), Rey is thirsty, Rey of Jakku: Wingman?, Reylo - Freeform, Sometimes an Arm Massage is Just an Arm Massage, TV Tropes: Crash-Into Hello, TV Tropes: Please Get Off Me, Topknot Kylo Ren, sharing is caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja
Summary: While taking a break from some work on theFalcon, Rey has an unexpected and too-literal run-in with Kylo. As they begin to realize that their bond may be strengthening despite their efforts to control it—or perhaps because of them—they are faced with decisions on how, and if, to proceed.





	Every Day I Mind the Gap Between You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> I think we are getting in to the home stretch here! Originally I was planning to have one more story after this one, but as I've been writing the next it seems like it's going to be more like two. Seven is a nice magical number, right?
> 
> As always, thanks to all who've been enjoying this series of stories—comments, kudos-ers, and silent readers alike. :) It's been a pleasure to write this.

“I was thinking,” Rey said, wiping a hand dark with oil stains across her forehead, “that maybe you’d like to take my place on the next probe flight.”

She looked at Finn casually, trying to blot out any hint of ulterior motive, even if said motive was in his favor and not her own. She actually enjoyed the short, secretive trips to worlds she had never heard of or seen. There was danger in seeking out potential allies in the Outer Rim to drum up what support had failed to show its face in the Resistance’s most desperate hour, but that did not lessen the appeal. Numbers now were so low, and growing too gradually in the months since Crait. The Resistance had to rebuild itself and its reach if it was to have any chance of prevailing, but fear was difficult to combat. Even Rey’s presence as a sort of beacon of what they stood for—a role she still didn’t feel completely at ease with and perhaps never would—was thus far able to accomplish only so much.

But, at least this once, Rey was willing to sacrifice a task she typically enjoyed. She was to be making the trip with Rose, who she now considered a good friend. Even so, Rey was of the mind that Finn might appreciate having that company just slightly more than she did. Maybe she didn’t know much about these things, and probably it wasn’t her business, but she trusted her instincts. 

Finn peered at her with suspicion. Her efforts at subtlety had failed, then. Or, more likely, he knew her too well. 

“Why?” He passed her a cloth to wipe the smear of grease from her forehead, but it was nearly as grimy as her hands, so it didn’t do much. “You love those trips. Probably more than any sane person.”

“I’ve just hardly _seen_ even a tiny bit of the galaxy,” Rey corrected him. “The circumstances are less than great, but there was a time when the possibility of leaving Jakku was nonexistent as far as I was concerned. You remember how I was. Once the shock of this all wore off . . . I don’t know. I’m trying to make up for that, I guess.”

“Hmm. When this is all over, you don’t think you’ll want to stay in one place again?”

“Probably. I suppose. With the right people.” Rey hadn’t really thought of what the war being all over meant. She wanted it to be, so much, but many of the possibilities of what that entailed were dismal. She didn’t like the way it made her feel, or the thoughts it began to stir. She stopped entertaining grim speculation and fixed Finn with a steely look. “So? Do you want to go out on this one? I’m slated to take it with Rose, so—”

“Ah hah!” Finn pointed at her, accusing even as he smiled. “You’re transparent! I thought I’d have to keep goading you until you slipped, or got sick of dancing around it.”

“Dancing around what?” Rey played innocent, but not well.

Finn rolled his eyes. “You think I want—need—I don’t know. Time alone with Rose. You do realize we spend time together without you, right?”

She may have realized this, but the way Finn said it made it sound as if such occasions were more frequent than she knew. The implication made her feel silly and meddlesome. She hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming about it, whether it was what she assumed or not. But then, he had no reason to be secretive if it was.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I do.” She shrugged and looked away, glad to have so many options for things to occupy herself with. They were running some routine maintenance on the _Falcon_ together, and it was proving a messier job than usual without Chewie overseeing and providing his years of experience with the ship’s quirks. “If you don’t want to go, just say so. I thought I was being helpful.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Finn sidled up next to her and pretended to be engrossed in whatever she too was pretending to be engrossed in. He nudged her gently with an elbow. “I know. I appreciate it. Maybe I can take it off your hands. Even if it’s on a trip to—what planet is this again?”

“Arkanis. Dress for rain, I’ve been told.”

“Ahh, now I see,” Finn said knowingly. “The truth at last. Desert girl like you, afraid of a little rain, hm?”

Rey snorted. “Hardly. Good try, though. Don’t feel bad. I’ll take your next assignment, if you want.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He grinned. “Could be a worse deal, I’ll keep that in mind. Anyone you particularly want to be stuck in a ship with for a few hours in transit?”

Rey was grateful that she didn’t blush easily and that her face had too many smears of grime on it to show it in case she was. “Hah. No, I don’t think so. Maybe Chewie.” She winked at Finn.

He made a noise of amused alarm. “You’ve been spending too much time with your head buried in those Jedi books. It’s making you weird. Weirder.”

“You have no idea.” She stole a glance at their work so far, and realized how long they’d been in the hangar. It was easy to lose track of time working with Finn. He kept it from ever feeling like work at all, whether they chatted amiably through it or maintained the silence of mutual concentration on more complex tasks. “Think we should take a break? Maybe meet back in an hour and finish this up?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. I’m starving. Want me to bring you back something to eat?”

“I’ve got lunch, but thanks.”

“Of course you do.” Finn turned and made his way toward the hangar door. “Try not to get too many crumbs in the cockpit if you eat up there. Could kill your chances with Chewie.”

Rey snickered and shook her head, making a few adjustments before closing up temporarily and moving away from the ship with her lunch sack in hand. She stooped to pick up another muck-laden rag that someone had left on the hangar floor, then rose and turned. 

She barely had time to process the familiar change in the air. Instead, she was immediately greeted by the sight of a man hurtling toward her, on a warpath and wielding a lightsaber she recognized. Without thinking, she cursed loudly and went low in an attempt to dodge out of the way, but his momentum propelled him on. He barreled into her with a grunt, her shoulder slammed his solar plexus, and they both tumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs. The lightsaber clattered away and out of view. Her lunch suffered a similar fate, bouncing once and sliding to rest a few feet away.

Rey swore again and pushed against the body under hers for leverage. One of her arms was trapped under his head, the other pinned between their bodies, and the leg that wasn’t bent painfully beneath her was wedged between his. There was no question that it was only Ben, of course, but that didn’t lessen the shock of how he’d arrived. This could have been embarrassing, except that the surge of adrenaline with no outlet only made her irritable. Especially as he was making no effort to help her.

“My leg is—hey? Ben.” She was about to nudge him harder, then realized he wasn’t moving very much, or giving any indication he was listening. Tilting her head to see his face, she found him vexed and winded, eyes unfocused. Instinctively, she brought her free hand to his chin to turn his face toward her, then patted his cheek. “Hey.”

He groaned abruptly and rolled to the side, freeing her limbs enough that she could move away to the floor next to him, crouched like a cat. She put a hand to his shoulder and shook gently. “Wind knocked out of you?”

Ben made a low noise of assent and slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, coughing hard a few times before turning his head away to spit. Rey sat back with her legs bent up and gave him a few moments to reorient himself, which gave her time to piece together what he’d been doing when the Force connected them this time. He was in black, as ever, boots and a pair of loose trousers and a rather less-loose tank top. His hair was tied up into a topknot, which was rumpled now as strands stuck to his face and neck with sweat. In her alarm her first thought had been that he was fighting someone in earnest, but it was clear now he’d more likely been taking part in some training exercise. Presumably alone.

Spying the rag she had dropped yet again on the floor near his foot, Rey snatched it up and wiped it over her hands despite its enduring uselessness. She raised an eyebrow at the smears of grime and oil her struggle to rise had left on Ben’s arms, neck, and face. “Better?”

He nodded and rolled his neck and shoulders. Rey watched with unconcealed interest as the muscles there flexed, which he must have noticed when he glanced at her in turn. His eyes flicked from her face and down, but fixed on her hands. “Why are you so filthy?”

She stared at him, feeling accused and seen through. A moment later she realized he was talking about the literal filth from her activities a few minutes before and not the direction her thoughts may have been taking.

“Maintenance,” she said. She waved the rag and pointed with her chin to the general mess she had made of him. “This won’t be any use to you.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s of much use to you, either.” He was mildly entertained at the obvious futility of Rey’s attempts to wipe the bulk of the dirt away and leaned closer to her to rub at one of the least offensive smudges on her wrist with his thumb. They both knew it was a useless attempt, little more than an excuse to touch and be touched, but she held out her arm and let him continue. “You know, it is possible to do ship maintenance without turning it into an oil bath. Unless that was your intention, in which case, you missed some spots.”

Rey scoffed and shrugged. “What were you doing, then? Having your hair styled?” 

“Training.” His ears turned pink, but he answered with the same air of flippancy she had. “Imagine my surprise when the holotarget I was charging suddenly had you behind it.”

Rey was imagining quite a few things right now. His fingers circling firmly on the inside of her wrist, and further up her arm as he continued his ineffectual war on the grease stains on her skin, were soothing and dulled the lingering edge of unease at the extreme nature of their meeting today. If the way his posture loosened was any evidence, she thought it likely the contact was having the same effect on him. Maybe that feeling of calm was looping between them. She would not have been surprised to find it so.

But it was also distracting. The lull made it easy to imagine that she was not in the not-very-private hangar that housed the Resistance’s small but growing fleet of starfighters. It made it easy for her to imagine that she could reach over to Ben and run her fingers back along his skin, trail darks lines up his arm, over the curve of his muscles and into his hair, the current state of which was leaving the back of his neck tantalizingly exposed. 

She remembered how he had reacted the first and last time she’d been foolish enough to act on an impulse like that. And that anyone could walk in at any time, really, and the less she had to explain about the state they might find her in, the better. Which only led her to contemplate what sort of state she was imagining being found in.

Rey drew her arm gently out of his grasp. The difference his ministrations had made was predictably minimal, which meant he may have just kept going. “I’d say I was a bit more surprised to find myself the target of an attack.”

“So you didn’t open it then.” His eyes traveled over her again, this time more methodically, and she realized he was checking her for injuries after their collision. “Are you all right?”

She almost laughed, both at the question and its belatedness. “I didn’t, and I’m fine. You got the worst of it. Anyway I don’t think your lightsaber would’ve done anything to me. It would’ve been like slicing through air.”

His saber flew back to his outstretched hand as he pulled it to him, and he clipped it back on to his belt. “I prefer not to disprove that by trial and error.”

The possibility that they might have to face each other in the field of battle was not lost on Rey, and she didn’t think Ben was ignorant either, but the sentiment was mutual and appreciated, if unrealistic. And sobering enough that she stopped letting her mind wander to reckless possibilities.

“You know, I’ve nearly finished mine,” she said, seizing on a more practical line of thought their discussion brought to mind. “Fixing it. It will be good as new when I’m done. Maybe better.”

Rey hadn’t forgotten his offer to help her rebuild it. Although she hadn’t wanted the help, even if it may have been useful, she didn’t begrudge the offer or his interest. The work had been far more difficult than she expected, the progress slow and largely unaided by the texts in her possession. Several times she wanted to give up. And she understood why Ben would want to ensure the saber’s integrity was maintained. While she couldn’t guarantee she had done so to his expectations now that the job was nearly complete, she had far exceeded her own. That was what mattered to her more than anything. 

“Better?” His tone was curious, if skeptical. “You sound a lot more confident about it than the last time we discussed it.”

“With hindsight, maybe. I didn’t feel very confident for a while.”

“Harder than building a simulator rig?”

“I already admitted it was. And yet I managed.”

“More than merely managed, I’m sure.” Ben looked at her askance. “Will you let me see it when you’ve completed it?”

“If you like.” She didn’t see a reason not to allow it. He couldn’t take it from her, and she didn’t think he would try. She didn’t even think he wanted to any longer. 

“Thank you.”

She waved his gratitude off, finding it a little odd that he didn't pursue the topic further with questions and unwarranted advice despite his seeming satisfaction. Strangely, it disappointed her. The lightsaber was something they shared, in a way. She wouldn’t have minded talking more about it—he would understand the nuances of working with something so tangible and yet so intimately joined to the Force. Then again, it was likely he would have plenty of very candid criticism and commentary on her work when he actually saw the thing. Given that, she was happy to save any exchanges of ideas for another time.

Rey stretched and heard her back crack a little. As if in response, her stomach growled. Casting about for her fumbled lunch, she spotted it and stood to retrieve it, returning to sit beside Ben a few moments later. With little care, she dumped the contents of the sack onto the floor in front of her. A packet of dried jogan fruit, some jerky from an animal she did not recognize the name of, and a wrapped energy pudding the look of which made her wish instead for the ever-ubiquitous protein bar. Perhaps she should have taken Finn up on the offer to bring her something back.

After immediately starting in on the jerky, which was as tough as any she’d ever had and about as tasty, Rey caught Ben staring at her in much the same way he had the last time the Force brought them together over a meal. Rather than being annoyed at what she detected as an undercurrent of judgment regarding her methods, all she thought was that he looked like he could use a meal himself.

“Here,” she said without ceremony, thrusting the energy pudding into his hand. When it came to what she was most willing to part with, the pudding would be the first to go every time, as the jerky was tolerable and the fruit actually quite delicious. “You ought to eat, if you’ve been training like you say.”

He took it with surprise. An identical feeling shortly struck her as well, because she’d forgotten he should not have been able to take it at all. Rey hadn’t even thought about it when she pushed it on him. Barring the occasional accident, they still had never managed to pass anything material directly through the connection. 

She schooled the alarm from her face, but the irony in her voice was more difficult to hide. “I guess you really should eat that. Clearly the Force found it imperative you receive it.”

“I’ll wait for the Force to find it imperative I eat something that doesn’t taste like reconstituted boot leather.” Ben was eying the fruit packet in her lap. He raised his eyebrows at her in a silent request for permission.

“Go on then,” she said through an indifferent mouthful of jerky. She was curious to see if it would work again.

He reached down and picked it up easily, as if it had originated on his side of the connection to begin with. Rey had somewhat hoped it wouldn’t work. She really didn’t want to share it, and she didn’t want to have to consider what implications this would have. What else could they pass? Would his lightsaber have been able to harm her after all, for instance? Why was this possible now? Of the last she could at least speculate that the experimenting they had been doing with opening and closing the bond, altering it, the meditation . . . perhaps they had unwittingly strengthened or unlocked something.

Ben was enjoying this, though. And he was enjoying the fruit, which was rightly hers, so she moved to snatch it back. He easily evaded her, twisting his body away and continuing to eat as if she hadn’t even tried. 

“You have some gall, criticizing how I eat, if that’s how you’re going to be,” Rey muttered. She wasn’t really in a mood to put up a fight for a prize she could technically just walk down to the mess later and get more of. It was mostly a pride thing, and in this case she thought she could stomach the defeat.

“I didn’t say anything about how you eat.”

This was technically true, at least today, but Rey pressed the point. “I know what you were thinking. Probably something about how I eat off the floor like a . . . guttersnipe with dirty hands.” She recalled the word he’d applied to her as he thumbed a tear from her face. This situation was not that, of course, but in retrospect she’d been able to find the dissonance of his words and actions almost funny despite her regret regarding all the rest.

“If you know what I’m thinking,” Ben began, turning back to face her, still clutching the half-empty packet out of her reach, “then tell me what I’m thinking right now. If you’re right, you can have your food back to continue eating it off of whatever unsanitary surface you please.”

Rey hadn’t expected him to round on her like this, and his tone was jarring. Although he looked serious, he was absolutely baiting her in a way that left her unsure how to respond. It was almost like Ben was playing with her, which was not something he did. She thought that this could go somewhere she simultaneously wanted and could not entertain from a practical standpoint. It was fine to imagine things, but now she felt faced with a _possibility_ , and she was not prepared to try dealing with it again.

So instead, she simply raised a hand and called the packet to her with the Force, which saw it fly easily from Ben’s grasp to hers.

“No thank you.” Her voice sounded flatter than she meant it to, but she supposed it could be blamed on a full mouth. 

Ben’s expression shifted to something more solemn again. He tossed the neglected pudding packet back to her, then caught her eyes with his and held her gaze. “Don't you want to know?”

“Why?” Rey said slowly. She leaned forward, staring back at him, refusing to be cowed by whatever it was he thought he was doing. “You're no good at hiding anything anyway. There's no challenge in it.”

“So then, tell me.” There it was, as his voice lowered, that gradual and maddening grin she’d seen just a few times that softened his face and made her want to return it. He’d come closer, enough that she could catch a faint sweet smell of the fruit he’d eaten on his breath.

She turned her face and brushed some crumbs from her lap. “Wouldn't you rather try to figure out why I could pass these to you?”

“Would you rather that?” Ben didn't move away. He lingered there, undeterred, his face inches from hers, and she could feel his eyes on her and his words tickling her ear.

“I . . .” She glanced at him cautiously. He was right there, so close, giving every indication that he wouldn’t break away this time. She looked at his lips. “I don’t know what to say about it. It just happened without my thinking of it.”

Rey was sure he was going to move to her, bring his soft shapely mouth to meet hers, but he didn’t, so she tentatively began to. He froze, then shifted just out of reach, more out of reflex than with any definitude, and it was all Rey could do not to growl with frustration. In the moment it took for Ben to recover and look as if he might be about to commit after all, she changed her mind and turned her face away again, putting an end to their brief and artless dance.

“Let’s not. This is already a bad place for me to be talking to you.” 

He exhaled audibly and remained near with his forehead dipped against the side of her face. She leaned into him a little until her cheek rested against his.

“Is that all it is?”

It slowly dawned on Rey that he was lightly stroking the top of her arm, his nails running back and forth, an echo of what he’d done earlier. It felt very nice, and again she wondered if he could feel it, too. So she didn’t tell him to stop or move away, even as she muttered, “No, it’s not.”

She’d managed to rationalize her actions from the last time they’d courted this: she’d been tired, alarmed by a dream that had left all of those images and feelings storming in her, he was for all appearances in her bed in the middle of the night, sympathetic, so much bare skin an arm’s length away, and she’d wanted . . . what? A distraction. Comfort. Now she was in the middle of a public room on a busy afternoon, there were no such excuses, and it remained fair to neither of them. 

“Right.” Ben stayed as he was for a few more seconds, until he became aware of it himself and straightened to break the contact.

Rey realized she was still holding the fruit packet—had been clutching it so hard it was crunched into a crinkly, sticky lump in her hand—and stuffed another piece into her mouth to busy herself. She offered the rest back to Ben as a goodwill gesture. He accepted, and she heard him empty it into his mouth. They chewed in companionable silence, which was far better than awkward silence at least.

“I think we’re running out of things to learn from this,” Ben said, apropos of nothing, after he swallowed. 

“What do you mean?”

“From what we’ve been doing. There’s a limit to what we can actually examine.”

“You mean like what happened today, with the food.”

“That. Or how we could, at this point, probably prevent it from opening. Block one another out.” 

Rey wasn’t sure if he was implying he wanted to do that, or merely meant it as a hypothetical. It wasn’t as if the same had not occurred to her. The trick would be catching that strange feeling just before it opened and halting it or holding it off until it ceased. It sounded difficult, but doable. “I’m sure we could. I . . . suppose it’d be like trying to close it or slow it. The same effort, but sustained. That depletion. Something squeezing inside your chest.” 

He nodded and remained quiet.

“Are you . . .” She didn’t want to sound angry, but if she was correct, his suggestion was insulting, and it would be hard for her not to be. “Do you mean that we should? Block each other off?”

Ben was still silent, but his eyes were trained intensely on his hands and his mouth twisted a bit. “It could be useful. If we’ve mastered this to the degree that we need to. The connection is getting stronger, if what happened today is any evidence. If it starts to be the case that we can see one another’s surroundings, like I could that night in your hut, we’re running into risky territory.”

“I guess, it could be. But, we don’t know that’s what will happen. And it wouldn’t necessarily be the risk you say.” It seemed like a leap. Maybe not a huge one, but Rey didn't think it was something to be concerned about. Not yet at least.

“So if it happened right now, what would I be looking at?”

The entire Resistance fleet. How small it was. And someone with Ben’s eye would no doubt have a fairly easy time evaluating the state of the craft, what sort of paltry threat they might be to an organization with thousands of ships to every one of those around her now. “I said it wouldn’t _necessarily_ be.”

“And what else are we filling the time with now?”

“We could just talk,” Rey said, a little bitterly. She didn’t understand where this was coming from. “There was a time once when we were able to do that. I thought it might be over. I wanted it to be over, I was so angry at you. And disappointed.” She folded her hands in her lap and frowned, reminding herself that they were practiced at forthrightness. “It’s still difficult to see you sometimes. But this time we’ve spent has been important to me. I thought that would have been obvious by now.”

Their last meeting through the bond ended in the midst of Ben describing in somewhat halting detail the surroundings of some planet he had evidently gone to for the express purpose of contacting her. It was sorely tempting to remind him of that point now. This was more to him than just experimental meetings for the sake of learning how to put it all to an end. Maybe that was why, she thought, the closer they became through it, the more it seemed to worry him.

When he didn’t say anything, Rey added, more quietly, “Was this your plan the whole time we’ve done this?”

Ben gave an short, unhappy huff of laughter. “My plan? Rey, I didn’t have a plan.” He paused, then echoed her. “I thought that would have been obvious by now.”

She believed that. In Rey’s experience with him, Ben rarely seemed to enter any situation with a fully conceived idea of how he was going to get out of it. She was often guilty of the same. His admission didn’t make her feel much better, though. It didn’t extinguish her anger that they might have salvaged something of this bond only to sever it. More significantly, it didn’t extinguish the terror in the pit of her stomach that she was about to be abandoned again.

That feeling made her nearly desperate enough to ask him what she had pointedly avoided asking him in the months since the _Supremacy_. To join her, come back, return home. But it wasn’t his home, and he wouldn’t be made to see it as such. Despite how she was positive she had seen a crack when Ben all but told her that his actions in the fraught moments after they took down Snoke’s guards had been a mistake, she held her resolve never to ask him again. 

Rey knew she had made bad decisions, too. But his decisions, admitted mistakes or otherwise, were not on her. She would help if he asked, advocate for him to the Resistance, do what she could as he built a new life. She hoped she could be a part of it. She wanted to be, and was certain he still wanted that, too. But she refused to be taken advantage of, and she refused to be disappointed again.

She thought of this and sensed her fears fade marginally. Nothing was permanent. She had a home with the Resistance. This was only one part of her life, even if the lack of it hurt.

“Maybe it was. But I went along because it was better than what we were doing, and I missed you. And then it ended up being . . . good, actually.” She wondered if what she was about to say toed too closely to what she had determined verboten. “Don’t say you want to close it. Not the way we’re talking about.”

“That isn't what I said.” 

Rey honestly couldn’t recall if he had, or if the mere suggestion had sent her jumping to the conclusion herself. She was about to respond when Ben looked away and got quickly to his feet, something in the training room commanding his attention. Like an echo reverberating through him and into her, she could faintly hear something like a comm, a voice she didn’t recognize speaking words she couldn’t quite parse. And she felt, just after, a surge of emotions in quick succession: confusion, outrage, fear, a spur of urgency. 

Ben spoke sharply, ignoring her entirely and giving monosyllabic answers as the voice spoke a few more times and then cut off.

“I need to go,” he said, barely glancing at her. He spoke more quietly but maintained the same harried tone that didn’t allow question or objection. Rey had to try anyway.

“What are you—”

“Don’t try to contact me. I’ll reach you when I can.”

Rey frowned and stood, indignant. She couldn't tell if that was her emotion or his. “Wait, tell me wh—”

He gave her a vehement look, and his throat constricted. Then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, we're back to using song lyrics as titles. This one comes from _Excuse Me_ by Nothing But Thieves. Have a listen and enjoy that soaring falsetto chorus.


End file.
